So my radiotherapy side effects are considerably less horrible than those I had with chemotherapy.
Last weekend I felt absolutely terrible and thought that this was from the first round of radiotherapy, so I was not really looking forward to the remaining 4 sessions. I now think that the reason I had such a horrible weekend last weekend was primarily due to the truly grim night I spent at Northwick Park Hospital lying flat on my back, not moving and definitely not sleeping.
I have a slightly pink back, according to Terry, which is subsiding. They also warned me that I would have back pain from the radiotherapy. Well given that I was in considerable pain before the radiotherapy, anything else would not really be a problem. As it happens my back pain is subsiding, so much so that I have reduced the considerable amount of painkillers I have been taking. My bowels are suffering a bit, but this might also be due to the reduction of painkillers. So it all looks good for the moment.
The MacMillan nurse called me on Friday to see how I was doing. Apparently, I have a gap of about 6 weeks before any further treatment, presumably to let all the after effects from the radiotherapy to abate, which is nice, as I have a couple of birthdays and a wedding to attend between then and now.
As you can imagine I have had a lot of time to ponder on my lot.
Every year I had a mammogram and an MRI of my remaining breast, which all came back clear. At some point over the last five years I did have a hystoscopy as I had a slightly suspicious discharge that came back clear. I also had an endoscopy when my hiatus hernia appeared to worsen, this also came back clear, in fact my hiatus hernia has gone. So it's not as though I have ignored potential symptoms. Would it be cost effective to do yearly full CT to every cancer patient? At what point would you stop doing annual CT scans? I'm not sure of the answers to any of these questions. I look back over the last few years and think of all the various aches and pains I have had in my back, shoulders and neck. All of which were sorted out with physiotherapy. I have had problems with my neck, shoulders and back for decades, primarily due to slouching over a desk for a living. Did the cancer move in there because I already have a weakness there? I think that on balance I probably caught the recurrence early. In some ways it is good that the cancer did take up residence in my bones and cause pain, rather than in some other organ where potentially I wouldn't have noticed until the prognosis was much worse. So overall I think that I probably have probably got the medical intervention as early as I reasonably could have.
Sunday, 24 January 2016
Tuesday, 19 January 2016
Beginner's Guide To Radiotherapy
The first time round I didn't have to do radiotherapy, so this is all new to me.
So having departed Northwick Park Hospital on Friday lunchtime, we arrive at Mount Vernon Cancer Centre at about 2.30pm.
I am taken through for yet another CT scan. During this I am scanned and 4 tattoos are made, one slap bang in the middle of my decolletage the other 3 are located just below my belly button and the other 2 in a line with this one, on each of my hips. These are to guide the radiotherapy people as to where I am to be zapped.
Calculations have to be made and this all takes time.
Eventually, we get to go to the radiotherapy department at about 5.15pm.
I lie flat on my back and with the help of lasers, callipers and rulers, the two radiographers call various numbers to each other. The bed I am on is moved this way and that, the radiotherapy machine is also moved this way and that until both are satisfied. They leave through the 2 foot thick door. First they take an x-ray and then they do the actual zapping. They then return to do the next bit lower down. The same number calling is done and the whole procedure is repeated. The whole thing takes about 15-20 minutes.
The journey there and back takes more time than the actual treatment.
I come home to my lovely, lovely bed and spend a very good night sleeping.
I am warned that the side effects can entail, "sunburn" on my skin, a sore throat and possible bowel issues, either diarrhoea or constipation. Well that's covered all eventualities.
I am warned that my back pain may well get worse. I spend quite an uncomfortable weekend as various bits of my back at different times hurt.
I am dreading the next 4 sessions, however by Tuesday, whilst I am still walking incredibly slowly, my mood and pain are improved and bearable.
I have been slapping, or rather Terry has, large quantities of aloe vera gel on my back, which is initially freezing, but so far does appear to be doing the trick in keeping the "sunburn" at bay.
I spend my days having a lie-in, having breakfast, strolling very, very slowly, up the road, watching TV and having afternoon snoozes.
The side effects can last up to two weeks after treatment is completed. I am hoping that since I am only having 5 sessions rather than 3 weeks worth, that my side effects will be small and short lived, so that I can get back to normal sooner rather than later.
So having departed Northwick Park Hospital on Friday lunchtime, we arrive at Mount Vernon Cancer Centre at about 2.30pm.
I am taken through for yet another CT scan. During this I am scanned and 4 tattoos are made, one slap bang in the middle of my decolletage the other 3 are located just below my belly button and the other 2 in a line with this one, on each of my hips. These are to guide the radiotherapy people as to where I am to be zapped.
Calculations have to be made and this all takes time.
Eventually, we get to go to the radiotherapy department at about 5.15pm.
I lie flat on my back and with the help of lasers, callipers and rulers, the two radiographers call various numbers to each other. The bed I am on is moved this way and that, the radiotherapy machine is also moved this way and that until both are satisfied. They leave through the 2 foot thick door. First they take an x-ray and then they do the actual zapping. They then return to do the next bit lower down. The same number calling is done and the whole procedure is repeated. The whole thing takes about 15-20 minutes.
The journey there and back takes more time than the actual treatment.
I come home to my lovely, lovely bed and spend a very good night sleeping.
I am warned that the side effects can entail, "sunburn" on my skin, a sore throat and possible bowel issues, either diarrhoea or constipation. Well that's covered all eventualities.
I am warned that my back pain may well get worse. I spend quite an uncomfortable weekend as various bits of my back at different times hurt.
I am dreading the next 4 sessions, however by Tuesday, whilst I am still walking incredibly slowly, my mood and pain are improved and bearable.
I have been slapping, or rather Terry has, large quantities of aloe vera gel on my back, which is initially freezing, but so far does appear to be doing the trick in keeping the "sunburn" at bay.
I spend my days having a lie-in, having breakfast, strolling very, very slowly, up the road, watching TV and having afternoon snoozes.
The side effects can last up to two weeks after treatment is completed. I am hoping that since I am only having 5 sessions rather than 3 weeks worth, that my side effects will be small and short lived, so that I can get back to normal sooner rather than later.
Monday, 18 January 2016
"A little disappointing"
So I got the all clear in September 2015.
In July 2015 I developed the world's worst stiff neck. So I go to physiotherapy and things improve.
In November I am put on a new drug Arimidex to replace the Tamoxifen. About 2 weeks after I start the new drug my ribs start to hurt for no apparent reason. I see the GP, have an X-ray and told to come back if things don't improve.
I go back and various scans are organised for December.
On December 9th at about midday I miss my footing stepping off a pavement sending a violent and shuddering shock wave through my body. The pain in my back is indescribable, but eventually recedes.
I have my bone scan on the 22nd of December. I go to see the oncologist on 7th January to be told that the pain is my back is the breast cancer cells taking up residence. She says that this is "a little disappointing" but is totally treatable. "A little disappointing" has to be the understatement of the year.
I have a further CT scan the following Tuesday to see if it has got anywhere else.
I get an urgent call from the oncologist's secretary the following day to come in on Thursday morning. This is not really what I want to hear, so have a sleepless night.
The reason for the urgency is because I have fractured my T1 vertebrae, which I now realise I did on December the 9th.
I need an urgent MRI to see if it is stable. If it is not then I need an operation at Charing Cross Hospital, to stabilise it. For this I have to be admitted, so off to A&E I go. The MRI is done at 2.30pm and the images should be sent off to Charing Cross Hospital where the experts are. So now we wait and wait and wait.
I have to go on to the assessment ward where there is a bed and have to stay the night. I am also told to lie flat on my back for the rest of my stay in case the fracture is not stable. This makes going to the loo somewhat problematic. I have to use a bedpan whilst lying flat on my back and it requires 4 nurses to log roll me on and off it. There is absolutely no dignity in this and further it is incredibly difficult to wee lying flat on one's back.
I spend a very uncomfortable night, getting stiffer and stiffer. The woman in the bed next to me leaves her mobile on all night so whilst I am disturbed by the various notification bings she sleeps through them.
At 6.30am I am moved to another ward, orthopaedics and gynaecology. An interesting mix. I am put on a side ward and left.
At some point in the morning the most welcome sight is the Macmillan nurse Nicola who has come to find me. Apparently my images didn't go to Charing Cross the day before but are going now.
The Northwick Park Neurosurgeons are fairly confident the the fracture is stable so I can get out of bed to go to the loo. I will never underestimate the simple things in life again.
I eventually get the all clear and am discharged. Nicola returns to tell us to go to Mount Vernon Hospital to start my radiotherapy. This is good because had I needed an operation then the radiotherapy would not be able to start until the wound had healed.
This involves yet another CT scan and 4 tattoos.
I eventually get treated at about 6pm. The treatment itself is uneventful.
I return home never more thankful to see my bed.
In July 2015 I developed the world's worst stiff neck. So I go to physiotherapy and things improve.
In November I am put on a new drug Arimidex to replace the Tamoxifen. About 2 weeks after I start the new drug my ribs start to hurt for no apparent reason. I see the GP, have an X-ray and told to come back if things don't improve.
I go back and various scans are organised for December.
On December 9th at about midday I miss my footing stepping off a pavement sending a violent and shuddering shock wave through my body. The pain in my back is indescribable, but eventually recedes.
I have my bone scan on the 22nd of December. I go to see the oncologist on 7th January to be told that the pain is my back is the breast cancer cells taking up residence. She says that this is "a little disappointing" but is totally treatable. "A little disappointing" has to be the understatement of the year.
I have a further CT scan the following Tuesday to see if it has got anywhere else.
I get an urgent call from the oncologist's secretary the following day to come in on Thursday morning. This is not really what I want to hear, so have a sleepless night.
The reason for the urgency is because I have fractured my T1 vertebrae, which I now realise I did on December the 9th.
I need an urgent MRI to see if it is stable. If it is not then I need an operation at Charing Cross Hospital, to stabilise it. For this I have to be admitted, so off to A&E I go. The MRI is done at 2.30pm and the images should be sent off to Charing Cross Hospital where the experts are. So now we wait and wait and wait.
I have to go on to the assessment ward where there is a bed and have to stay the night. I am also told to lie flat on my back for the rest of my stay in case the fracture is not stable. This makes going to the loo somewhat problematic. I have to use a bedpan whilst lying flat on my back and it requires 4 nurses to log roll me on and off it. There is absolutely no dignity in this and further it is incredibly difficult to wee lying flat on one's back.
I spend a very uncomfortable night, getting stiffer and stiffer. The woman in the bed next to me leaves her mobile on all night so whilst I am disturbed by the various notification bings she sleeps through them.
At 6.30am I am moved to another ward, orthopaedics and gynaecology. An interesting mix. I am put on a side ward and left.
At some point in the morning the most welcome sight is the Macmillan nurse Nicola who has come to find me. Apparently my images didn't go to Charing Cross the day before but are going now.
The Northwick Park Neurosurgeons are fairly confident the the fracture is stable so I can get out of bed to go to the loo. I will never underestimate the simple things in life again.
I eventually get the all clear and am discharged. Nicola returns to tell us to go to Mount Vernon Hospital to start my radiotherapy. This is good because had I needed an operation then the radiotherapy would not be able to start until the wound had healed.
This involves yet another CT scan and 4 tattoos.
I eventually get treated at about 6pm. The treatment itself is uneventful.
I return home never more thankful to see my bed.
Friday, 6 April 2012
...And So It Ends...
Wednesday 4th April
So here we are, two years down the line and at the end of my treatment. Although strictly speaking I continue to have treatment for the next 4 years as I am on Tamoxifen, however it is the end of my hospital based treatment.
The day itself was delightfully uneventful, although I have discovered that steroids do have some wonderful and hugely pleasing side effects. At this time of year I suffer from hay fever and last year due to a total lack of immune system did not suffer at all - hooray! Annoyingly, when my immune system recovered it didn't have the common decency to come back and behave in a normal manner, so this year my hay fever has been really bad with the world's itchiest eyes. I have to take industrial quantities of steroids as a pre-med to stop my immune system going into overdrive with the Herceptin, consequently my immune system also stops reacting to pollen!!! Hooray for drugs! I could put up with the fact that the steroids stop me from sleeping for about 4 days if it means that I get relief from the hay fever.
I digress. As I said the day and treatment were uneventful. I had the honour of being seen to by the matron, who can find a vein at 500 yards in the dark! So good is she that I didn't have to put my arm in a bucket of warm water.
On leaving the unit I was hugged by all and sundry, which was nice. As I said to them I sincerely hope that I never see any of them again in their professional capacity.
So what have I gained/ learned over the past two years?
Never ignore lumps! Even though the lump that I found was actually a cyst.
Early diagnosis is the key to a good outcome.
I have seen the NHS at its absolute best. At no point during the two years have I ever thought "can we afford this?" "will my insurance cover this?" The staff have without exception been consummately professional and unfailingly good humoured.
I have realised what is and isn't important in the grand scheme of things. Whilst I hope to lead a slightly healthier life don't expect to see me running marathons any time soon. I can't run anyway, since I get slightly cross-eyed and trip over the pavement.
As I have said on many occasion, this is the worst thing that has happened to me but not the worst thing that could have happened to me.
I have been supported by friends near and far, and have been overwhelmed by the genuine concern from people I haven't spoken to in ages. Perhaps they thought they'd better contact me before it was too late! How often we put off that phone call.
Well that's it really. Out with a whimper rather than a bang.
Good bye and thanks for reading.
Love from
Corinne xxx
So here we are, two years down the line and at the end of my treatment. Although strictly speaking I continue to have treatment for the next 4 years as I am on Tamoxifen, however it is the end of my hospital based treatment.
The day itself was delightfully uneventful, although I have discovered that steroids do have some wonderful and hugely pleasing side effects. At this time of year I suffer from hay fever and last year due to a total lack of immune system did not suffer at all - hooray! Annoyingly, when my immune system recovered it didn't have the common decency to come back and behave in a normal manner, so this year my hay fever has been really bad with the world's itchiest eyes. I have to take industrial quantities of steroids as a pre-med to stop my immune system going into overdrive with the Herceptin, consequently my immune system also stops reacting to pollen!!! Hooray for drugs! I could put up with the fact that the steroids stop me from sleeping for about 4 days if it means that I get relief from the hay fever.
I digress. As I said the day and treatment were uneventful. I had the honour of being seen to by the matron, who can find a vein at 500 yards in the dark! So good is she that I didn't have to put my arm in a bucket of warm water.
On leaving the unit I was hugged by all and sundry, which was nice. As I said to them I sincerely hope that I never see any of them again in their professional capacity.
So what have I gained/ learned over the past two years?
Never ignore lumps! Even though the lump that I found was actually a cyst.
Early diagnosis is the key to a good outcome.
I have seen the NHS at its absolute best. At no point during the two years have I ever thought "can we afford this?" "will my insurance cover this?" The staff have without exception been consummately professional and unfailingly good humoured.
I have realised what is and isn't important in the grand scheme of things. Whilst I hope to lead a slightly healthier life don't expect to see me running marathons any time soon. I can't run anyway, since I get slightly cross-eyed and trip over the pavement.
As I have said on many occasion, this is the worst thing that has happened to me but not the worst thing that could have happened to me.
I have been supported by friends near and far, and have been overwhelmed by the genuine concern from people I haven't spoken to in ages. Perhaps they thought they'd better contact me before it was too late! How often we put off that phone call.
Well that's it really. Out with a whimper rather than a bang.
Good bye and thanks for reading.
Love from
Corinne xxx
Sunday, 18 March 2012
The Non-Exclusive Club
Wednesday 14th March
It seems to me that hardly a week goes by without speaking to someone who has developed cancer. I have to say that I am very sad and annoyed that I am now a member of a club that is rapidly becoming non-exclusive!
To all of those who have to undergo the gruelling cancer treatment, you have my deepest sympathy and empathy as well as my heartfelt wish that all goes well and that you will be on the road to recovery very soon.
This was my 17th visit, only one to go! Hooray! It was remarkably uneventful and I was in and out within about 3 hours which is excellent.
I am so looking forward to not having to take copious quantities of drugs which might mean that I actually get to sleep a little better. Steroids do nothing for a girl's beauty sleep!
It seems to me that hardly a week goes by without speaking to someone who has developed cancer. I have to say that I am very sad and annoyed that I am now a member of a club that is rapidly becoming non-exclusive!
To all of those who have to undergo the gruelling cancer treatment, you have my deepest sympathy and empathy as well as my heartfelt wish that all goes well and that you will be on the road to recovery very soon.
This was my 17th visit, only one to go! Hooray! It was remarkably uneventful and I was in and out within about 3 hours which is excellent.
I am so looking forward to not having to take copious quantities of drugs which might mean that I actually get to sleep a little better. Steroids do nothing for a girl's beauty sleep!
Sunday, 26 February 2012
The Old Hand
Wednesday 22nd February
Well I really am in the home straight now - hooray! Number 16 only two left after this!
The funny thing is that my perception is that the gap between sessions is growing. I had to check the date several times because I felt that there had been much more than 3 weeks elapsed since number 15! Interestingly Terry thinks the gaps are getting shorter. Einstein was right, time is all relative!
So I arrive and have to wait in reception for a while. I get talking to this woman who had slightly suspect lymph nodes and then it was discovered that the cancer was everywhere! So a double mastectomy later she was awaiting chemotherapy. She was not impressed with the day surgery in as much as going home the same day was not for her. I on the other hand thought it was absolutely the best thing for me. Still I suppose it depends on what is awaiting you at home.
Anyway, I went in and got the all singing all dancing chair. I am apparently the only patient who likes them. I am weighed and have put on more weight. I have only another 6 weeks or so to use the steroid excuse for getting fat!
The nurse then ferrets about for a vein. Now I am on the slightly less toxic Herceptin they can use deeper veins. Clearly deeper veins don't show the bruises as easily because there is no evidence of my visit on my arm.
The woman next to me asks if I am on Herceptin and how many I have done. I tell her "yes" and that this is my 16th round. She is on her first and asks, not unreasonably if there are any side effects. I tell that for me, apart from my fingernails turning to butter and my face becoming very hot, red and itchy the following day, that "no" there are few if any side effects. I then I remember my first session and mention in passing the massive allergic reaction I had. She looks slightly startled, but then I did point out that I was exceptionally unusual and that perhaps I shouldn't have told her that!
I feel like a real old hand now and see new people coming and going. There was one man there who was having his last session. I felt a pang of envy but know that I too have not long to wait. He said that whilst he would miss the staff and other patients he would not miss the needles at all. Not surprising really as they took four attempts to find a vein.
Well I really am in the home straight now - hooray! Number 16 only two left after this!
The funny thing is that my perception is that the gap between sessions is growing. I had to check the date several times because I felt that there had been much more than 3 weeks elapsed since number 15! Interestingly Terry thinks the gaps are getting shorter. Einstein was right, time is all relative!
So I arrive and have to wait in reception for a while. I get talking to this woman who had slightly suspect lymph nodes and then it was discovered that the cancer was everywhere! So a double mastectomy later she was awaiting chemotherapy. She was not impressed with the day surgery in as much as going home the same day was not for her. I on the other hand thought it was absolutely the best thing for me. Still I suppose it depends on what is awaiting you at home.
Anyway, I went in and got the all singing all dancing chair. I am apparently the only patient who likes them. I am weighed and have put on more weight. I have only another 6 weeks or so to use the steroid excuse for getting fat!
The nurse then ferrets about for a vein. Now I am on the slightly less toxic Herceptin they can use deeper veins. Clearly deeper veins don't show the bruises as easily because there is no evidence of my visit on my arm.
The woman next to me asks if I am on Herceptin and how many I have done. I tell her "yes" and that this is my 16th round. She is on her first and asks, not unreasonably if there are any side effects. I tell that for me, apart from my fingernails turning to butter and my face becoming very hot, red and itchy the following day, that "no" there are few if any side effects. I then I remember my first session and mention in passing the massive allergic reaction I had. She looks slightly startled, but then I did point out that I was exceptionally unusual and that perhaps I shouldn't have told her that!
I feel like a real old hand now and see new people coming and going. There was one man there who was having his last session. I felt a pang of envy but know that I too have not long to wait. He said that whilst he would miss the staff and other patients he would not miss the needles at all. Not surprising really as they took four attempts to find a vein.
Thursday, 2 February 2012
Home Straight and More Bad News
Wednesday 1st February
Firstly let me assure you that the bad news does not relate to me. I was going to title this entry "Home Straight and More Bloody Cancer" but I thought that might put some of my readers into a bit of a tail spin.
I have now completed 15 rounds of Herceptin and have only another 3 to go - hooray! Apart from taking 3 attempts to find a vein my visit went off smoothly and uneventfully. However the unit was understaffed due to one bad back, a migraine which necessitated a visit to A & E and a broken ankle. I am beginning to think that perhaps the inmates are in a slightly better state of health than the staff!
As for the bad news my oldest friend, or rather the friend I have known the longest (as I have many friends who are way older) had a birthday party in January. She took me to one side and told me that she too has breast cancer. It would appear that she will have to only (and I use that word carefully) have to undergo a lumpectomy followed by radiotherapy. I wrote to her the following day and I have to say it was the hardest letter I have had to write. It was difficult to tell her what she can expect without coming across as completely doom laden. As I said cancer is not a battle but a long, hard and boring slog which has to be endured.
The thing that surprised me the most was that I was considerably more upset and annoyed that she has cancer than I was when I was diagnosed. I couldn't quite work out why at first and then it struck me. Up until this point I was labouring under the complete misapprehension that since I had "done" breast cancer that was it. It wouldn't have to be dealt with again by anyone, which I realise is completely mad.
Cancer will always be there but hopefully the remedies and survival rates will continue to improve.
Firstly let me assure you that the bad news does not relate to me. I was going to title this entry "Home Straight and More Bloody Cancer" but I thought that might put some of my readers into a bit of a tail spin.
I have now completed 15 rounds of Herceptin and have only another 3 to go - hooray! Apart from taking 3 attempts to find a vein my visit went off smoothly and uneventfully. However the unit was understaffed due to one bad back, a migraine which necessitated a visit to A & E and a broken ankle. I am beginning to think that perhaps the inmates are in a slightly better state of health than the staff!
As for the bad news my oldest friend, or rather the friend I have known the longest (as I have many friends who are way older) had a birthday party in January. She took me to one side and told me that she too has breast cancer. It would appear that she will have to only (and I use that word carefully) have to undergo a lumpectomy followed by radiotherapy. I wrote to her the following day and I have to say it was the hardest letter I have had to write. It was difficult to tell her what she can expect without coming across as completely doom laden. As I said cancer is not a battle but a long, hard and boring slog which has to be endured.
The thing that surprised me the most was that I was considerably more upset and annoyed that she has cancer than I was when I was diagnosed. I couldn't quite work out why at first and then it struck me. Up until this point I was labouring under the complete misapprehension that since I had "done" breast cancer that was it. It wouldn't have to be dealt with again by anyone, which I realise is completely mad.
Cancer will always be there but hopefully the remedies and survival rates will continue to improve.
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